


Love Will Fuck Us Apart

by edema_ruh



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Arguing, Bar fights, Blood, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cynicism, Declarations Of Love, Depression, Drinking, Established Relationship, Fights, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Introspection, Knife Wounds, Making Up, Protectiveness, Punching, Stitches, They love each other, Worry, they just need to communicate better
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:21:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/edema_ruh/pseuds/edema_ruh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire's relationship with Enjolras isn't always perfect, but it's the best thing they both have.<br/>Or, the one where their relationship is doomed to fall apart, but a bar fight makes each of them realize what's really important.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Love Will Fuck Us Apart

He regretted everything. 

They were always fighting, it was something usual for them. Meetings would end in meaningless shouting and hurtful accusations, even social encounters often culminated on discussions sometimes, starting with a bickery comment from Grantaire and ending on one of them storming out of the room. The Amis had grown used to the red faces, shouting and sometimes even crying that their discussions usually brought. 

Even as Enjolras and Grantaire started their relationship, they all knew that the fighting wouldn’t stop. Of course, it diminished considerably – Grantaire had learned to be less obnoxious, while Enjolras learned to think before he spoke -, but they still fought sometimes, and it still hurt. It didn’t matter that Enjolras would flood him with kisses later, a silent and sweet apology murmured against Grantaire's skin with each touch, or that Grantaire would prepare dinners or buy Enjolras different editions of his favorite books as a form of apology. Somehow, the hurt was still in there, buried deep within both of the men, waiting for the next discussion to burst out and be used as a weapon against each other. 

Usually, Grantaire was the one who used the guilt factor more often. He and Enjolras both knew about his depression, along with his – very well hidden – self esteem issues and insecurity. Whenever the pair fought after the start of their relationship, Grantaire would use that against Enjolras, even if it made his own stomach clench in regret upon seeing the guilt inside Enjolras' green eyes. He really was a terrible person, wasn’t he? 

Enjolras, on the other hand, would insult Grantaire through complimenting him. He probably didn’t even realize how hurtful his words were, but it wasn’t uncommon for the cynic to be told that he was wasting his potential, or that he could be so much more if only he tried. Grantaire's vices were often thrown against him either, sometimes with such disdain and coldness that made the man doubt Enjolras' feelings for him. 

But despite the fights, they loved each other. And they always found a way through them. 

Except things were starting to fall apart. 

Neither of them could pinpoint the exact moment when their relationship started to deteriorate, but it was there somewhere. Grantaire started drinking more and more, skipping ABC meetings to spend the day at some bar, and Enjolras, in retaliation, started to work more. They barely saw each other anymore, only at nights, when Enjolras arrived home at late hours to find Grantaire passed out on their couch. They didn’t communicate further than wishes of good morning – Enjolras didn’t bother lecturing Grantaire about the drinking anymore, it was no use – and Grantaire started to feel more and more worthless. He knew it was his own fault, but if not even Enjolras cared anymore, why should he? 

Everything got worse when Enjolras got home injured from a protest that Grantaire didn’t bother to attend. There was a cut on his forehead and a purple bruise around his eye, and anger overcame Grantaire's worry as he saw the way Enjolras was clenching his own ribs tightly with one arm. 

The worst discussion they had had in months ensued, which ended up on Enjolras storming out of their shared apartment to spend the night at Combeferre's and Grantaire grabbing his wallet and leaving to go to the nearest bar. He left his phone on the coffee table, knowing that even if Enjolras called, he wouldn’t be bothered to answer. 

The fact was, Grantaire felt numb. He still loved Enjolras – that was a incontestable fact – but that alone wasn’t enough for him to set aside his self-destructive tendencies. He still drank, to forget the disappointment inside Enjolras' eyes, and he still skipped meetings and protests, because he couldn’t bear to see Enjolras throw himself at danger recklessly. He still made snappy comments just for the sake of it, and he still interrupted Enjolras' speeches just to annoy him. Whenever he did any of those things he felt his heart tighten and his stomach clench in disgust at himself, but he couldn’t stop. He didn’t know what was wrong. 

Enjolras still loved Grantaire, but the man was rather insufferable at time. Enjolras could never know when to count on him – he always skipped meetings and protests for no reason, and always made a point to publicly mock Enjolras with no regard for his feelings at all. The only way Enjolras knew to show him how those things bothered him without yelling hurtfull accusations was to give Grantaire the cold shoulder, but not even that seemed to work anymore. It was as if Grantaire simply didn’t care, and that made Enjolras wonder whether their relationship had a future or not. 

Enjolras had decided to go to Combeferre's apartment, but ended up changing his mind. He wandered on the empty streets for a few minutes before finally deciding to enter a nearby bar. It wouldn’t be his usual choice of recreation – seeing Grantaire drunk out of his mind made him turn up his nose of being at that state himself -, but he was feeling terrible about the fight with his boyfriend and just wanted to forget things for a while. 

He didn’t want to end his relationship with Grantaire. He loved him. But he wasn’t sure they'd be able to live with each other for much longer from the way things were going. 

Enjolras didn’t even know why he was surprised when he saw Grantaire inside the bar, already gulping down a drink and leaning slightly over the bar counter. His mind immediately told him to turn around and leave before Grantaire noticed he was there, but he found himself walking towards the farthest table from the counter and sitting down, mostly hidden by the shadows. 

It was a funny irony, that. Usually, Grantaire was the one who watched Enjolras from the shadowy corner. 

Enjolras didn’t like to drink, but when a waitress approached him, he reluctantly ordered a beer. He didn’t know why he was there or what he expected, but he sipped at the beer bottle while looking at Grantaire, who had his back turned to him, unaware of Enjolras' presence.  

He loved Grantaire, he really did. Seeing him like that – apathetic, drunk and aggressively distant – broke Enjolras heart. He wanted to help him but couldn’t help but to feel annoyed at the way Grantaire reacted whenever he offered his help. He wanted to let his boyfriend know he was there for him, but didn’t know how, specially because of the way the cynic was never there for Enjolras. 

A man sat beside Grantaire on the barstool and leaned towards him. Enjolras' heart leaped inside his chest. 

His relationship with Grantaire might be a trainwreck right now, but he would never go as far as to cheat on Enjolras, would he? They could still figure things out, they could still... 

The man whispered something on Grantaire's ear and Enjolras' boyfriend chuckled, whole body trembling from laughter. Enjolras grip on the now empty beer bottle tightened, and he called the waiter to ask for another. The woman eyed him warily, almost frightened, and Enjolras suddenly became awake that he was bearing a black eye from the protest. There was probably still a bit of blood smeared across his forehead. 

The waitress arrived with his second bottle at the same time the man let his hand rest on the low of Grantaire's back. Grantaire did nothing to remove the hand, but looked stiff from where Enjolras was watching. Maybe it was Enjolras' intoxicated brain – yes, he was _that_ much of a lightweight – trying to convince itself that Grantaire was offering sometime of resistance. 

But he wasn’t. He hadn't moved or said anything, he was just there, just accepting as the man rubbed slow circles around his back, turning his head away so that Enjolras could only see the mop of black, thick curls that he loved caressing, had loved caressing – 

Grantaire would never do that to Enjolras, would he? He would never cheat on him. No matter how bad their relationship was, he would never do that, would he? 

Enjolras felt a sob making its way up his throat and swallowed another mouthful of the beer to prevent it. He didn’t know why he was so upset, that was just what he needed, wasn’t it? A good excuse to break up with Grantaire and finally move on from that whirlwind that their relationship had become, a chance to put an end to the fights and shouting and the tears welling in his eyes late at night as he wondered where everything had gone wrong. 

Except he didn’t want it to end. 

A loud sound called Enjolras' attention and he looked up to see Grantaire stumbling from his barstool, putting some distance between himself and the man and knocking a bottle down in the process, before sitting back up on the far corner. He was resuming drinking his shot when the man followed him and sat back down beside him. Grantaire looked uncomfortable but did nothing. Enjolras sat up straighter on his chair and observed. 

It wasn’t long before the man touched Grantaire again, this time on the arm. He whispered something on the cynic's ear, but this time Grantaire pushed him back, a slurred "fuck off" muttered under his breath.  

The man looked angry at this. He got up from the stool, both hands clenched into fists, and started yelling at Grantaire. 

"Alright, faggot", the man yelled, drawing the attention of the whole bar. "Go back to your stupid cock-sucking group". 

Grantaire got up too, despite looking way more tipsy than the other man. The bartender approached them, looking wary. 

"One, I didn’t fucking ask you to come flirting with me", Grantaire yelled back, taking one last chug at the cup he was holding before setting it on the counter with force. "Two, you call me faggot but you were the one offering to suck my dick five minutes ago". 

The man fumed, throwing his glass at the floor and jumping towards Grantaire. 

"You're a loud mouth, aren't you?" He yelled. The bartender intervened before he could do anything, getting out of from behind the counter and placing himself between the two. He said something about no fights on that bar, and kicked them out. 

Enjolras felt his heart thumping madly inside his chest, and it took him a few seconds to realize that he was happy. Grantaire didn’t cheat on him. Grantaire wouldn’t. 

He hadn't felt like that in a long time. 

He decided to go after Grantaire, to have a conversation – a real, proper conversation with him – and finally put their relationship back on the tracks. He loved Grantaire and would tell him so, he would tell him that he wouldn’t give up on them. 

Three suspicious looking men got up from their seats and followed Grantaire and the other man out of the bar. Enjolras frowned. 

He didn’t wait for the waitress to approach him, instead, he jogged after her – only stumbling a couple times – and payed for the beers he consumed before barging out of the bar. Something told him that Grantaire would be in trouble. 

Just as he went through the front door of the bar, he saw the three men entering the ally behind it. He slowly followed, taking careful steps and trying to be as quiet as possible. He heard footsteps, shuffling, and the sound of flesh hitting flesh. Daring to peek inside the ally, Enjolras saw four man surrounding Grantaire, who had his arms lifted midair in front of him, hands clenched into fists, ready to fight. He was drunk but not too drunk to fight them, plus, Grantaire was a boxer and knew some martial arts. He would be fine. 

Except just the thought of any of these men laying a single finger on Grantaire made Enjolras see red, and before he could know better, he was stepping inside the ally, whistling loudly to call their attention. 

"If you want him, you'll have to go through me", Enjolras said, voice sounding menacing. 

Enjolras was never taken seriously by any foe. He was short – not too short, but enough to make a person look at him twice whenever he entered a fight –, his hair was long and he was too slim. It wasn’t unusual for him to be mistaken for a girl, which Enjolras took as a compliment but his enemies saw as a fragility for some reason. 

One of the men smirked and stepped forward, as the other three turned their attention back to Grantaire, who was looking confused and concerned. _What on earth was_ _Enjolras_ _doing there_? 

Enjolras wasn’t a professional fighter, but he knew how to throw punches when he needed to. This man was at least two heads taller than him, and he was approaching Enjolras quickly. Before he could think of anything else, Enjolras punched him straight in the crotch. 

The man fell on his knees, a pained groan leaving his parted lips. His friends spared him a glance before turning to Grantaire, who promptly punched one of them square in the jaw. 

The man kneeling in front of Enjolras took the leader's distraction and punched Enjolras' knee, making him fall on his back with a pained yelp. He used his good leg to kick the man's face, making him fall on his side, either unconscious or too stunned to move. 

Enjolras limped towards Grantaire, who seemed to be having a little trouble dealing with three men at the same time. His knee was hurting terribly – he had probably dislodged the kneecap – but he managed to throw himself at one of Grantaire's attackers, pulling him back by the neck and sending them both to the floor. The man managed to tear himself away from Enjolras' arms with ease, punching Enjolras' face before reaching for his back and pulling off a knife. 

"Enjolras!" Grantaire yelled, sounding desperate, and Enjolras dodged right before the man could stab him. It was hard to dodge the attacks with his knee throbbing painfully like that, but he stumbled to his feet, trying to get away. The man grabbed him by the foot – the foot of his bad leg, which sent a wave of pain through his whole body and made him scream – and Enjolras fell on his stomach. The man grabbed him back and put his knife to Enjolras' neck, but before he could do anything, Grantaire appeared and threw himself against him, making the both collide against a garbage can and making the blade leave only a scratch against Enjolras' flesh. 

Grantaire threw several punches against the man's face, knife gone from his limp grasp, and as Enjolras looked around he saw that two of Grantaire's other foes were fallen, unconscious. The man Grantaire was punching was also unconscious, face now a bloodied mess, and Enjolras could no longer watch. 

"R!" he called, and Grantaire's hand stopped mid-punch. It was as if he had gotten out of a trance, and his arm fell heavily beside his body as he let go of the unconscious man's shirt collar, making him fall back on the floor, head colliding harshly with the concrete. 

Grantaire got to his trembling feet, sparing a nervous look to his blood covered hands before cleaning them on the front of his trousers. He approached Enjolras, concern clear on his otherwise glassy eyes, and kneeled beside his boyfriend, who was half lying on the floor, half propped on his elbows. 

"Are you ok?" Grantaire asked, voice high-pitched with worry, tilting Enjolras' chin up to look at his neck. He saw the faint pink line coloring the flesh and closed his lips tightly, rage replacing the worry. 

"I'm fine", Enjolras said, raising an arm to touch Grantaire's face with gentleness. Grantaire's expression softened, and he let out a shaky sigh that he hadn't known he wasn’t holding. 

"What about your leg?" Grantaire asked, looking down at Enjolras stretched leg. Enjolras flinched when his boyfriend touched his knee, hissing lowly. 

"It's ok", Enjorlas reassured when Grantaire looked back up at him with wide eyes. "I've dislodged my knee before, it was way worse than this – the kneecap probably got a little out of place and then went back, nothing that a few weeks of physio-" 

"Enjolras", Grantaire interrupted, pulling Enjolras' head towards his own and joining their foreheads. "It's going to be ok. Stop being stupid. Do you need to go to a hospital?" 

"No", Enjolras immediately responded, closing his eyes against the touch. "I just need a little help to get up and a knee-pad when we get home, then I'll be fine". 

Somehow, lying there on that dirty ally, knee hurt and breaths coming out in pained puffs, forehead connected with his boyfriend's, felt like more intimacy than he had had with Grantaire for the past weeks. 

Grantaire placed a quick kiss to Enjolras' cheek and got up from the floor, placing both hands beneath Enjolras' armpits and hoisting him carefully. Enjolras passed both arms around Grantaire's neck, allowing the cynic to take part of his weight as they stood silently on the dark alley. 

"We should get out of here", Grantaire whispered finally, shifting positions to make Enjolras stand beside him instead of in front of him. "Can you walk?" 

"Y-yes", Enjolras grunted, trying to lean a bit of weight on his injured leg. A wave of pain overcame him and his leg gave out, and if it hadn't been leaning on Grantaire he would have fallen face first on the floor. Grantaire clicked his tongue, sighing, and suddenly Enjolras was being lifted from the ground and held up bridal-style by Grantaire. "Hey, no, this isn't necessary, just pu-" 

"Can you please shut up and let me take care of you for once?" Grantaire asked, breath coming in harsh short puffs as he walked away from the alley and carried Enjolras back to their apartment. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far from there, and they got home in no time. Grantaire put Enjolras back down, the leader still leaning on Grantaire as he worked to open the door and basically dragged Enjolras inside. 

He placed Enjolras on the couch, foot leaning on the coffee table so that his leg was fully stretched, and the leader waited in silence for Grantaire to reapear from the bathroom. He emerged in a few seconds, carrying a first aid kit, gauze, duct tape and two packs of ice. 

"Put that on your face", Grantaire instructed, throwing one of the packs at Enjolras and starting to unbutton the leader's pants. 

"What are you doing?" Enjolras frowned, raising his hips from the couch so that Grantaire could pull his pants off. 

"I'm going to immobilize your knee", Grantaire explained, carefully lifting Enjolras' injured leg to gently pull the pant off it. As he finished, he threw the fabric on the couch beside Enjolras, not looking at him, never looking at him. Only then Enjolras noticed Grantaire hadn't looked at him since the forehead moment back at the ally. 

Enjolras watched as Grantaire carefully passed several layers of gauze around Enjolras knee and held it in place with the tape. 

Grantaire helped Enjolras turn around so he could fully lay on the couch, propping his knee up with a pillow and placing the second ice pack beneath the joint. Enjolras felt awkward like this, even in front of his boyfriend – he was lying on his underwear, icepack on his eye (he didn’t even remember the eye), leg propped up. He felt like an invalid. Grantaire was fussing around him, placing pillows behind his back so he could be more comfortable, when Enjolras noticed the large stain of blood on his boyfriend's lower torso, right above the hip. 

"Grantaire, you're bleeding!", Enjolras said, horrified, pulling Grantaire into a halt by the arm and looking up at him with horrified eyes. Grantaire looked away, still avoiding Enjolras' gaze. The cynic said nothing, shrugging his arm from his boyfriend's grasp instead and walking back into the bathroom. 

He returned shirtless, torso wet and cut cleared. It was still bleeding, but Grantaire quickly grabbed another gauze and put pressure on it. 

"It's just a flesh wound, Enjolras, don't worry about it" Grantaire finally said, trying to sound reassuring. "It needs stitches, though, so I'll be right back", he grabbed the first aid kid with his spare hand and disappeared into the bathroom again. 

Enjolras had enough of that. He didn’t know why Grantaire wasn’t looking him in the eye, all he wanted after all that stress was to take a break from that constant war they were in and nap with his boyfriend. He struggled to sit upright on the couch, outstretched leg making it difficult for him to turn. He took a deep breath and mustered all his strength to take impulse and stand up, leaning most of his weight on his good leg. He limped his way to the bathroom, taking more time than he would like, and reached it to find the door ajar. 

He knocked lightly on it before slowly pulling it open, revealing a frowning Grantaire finishing to stitch his own wound. The cut on his hip wasn’t too deep, but it was still bleeding and it looked like it hurt. Enjolras didn’t need to ask how Grantaire knew how to stitch a wound; he was well aware of his past and of his boxing habits. 

Grantaire saw Enjolras standing on the corridor but still refused to look at him, cutting the line and placing the bloodied needle on the contrasting white sink. He turned it on, placing the gauze beneath the water until it was damp and cleaned the reminiscent blood from his wound. When he was finally done, there was no way to leave the bathroom without looking at Enjolras, and Grantaire slowly raised his gray eyes until they met Enjolras' green ones. 

"You shouldn’t be standing up", Grantaire said, and Enjolras couldn’t read the look in his eyes. He looked... sad. 

"Where else are you hurt?" Enjolras asked, limping closer to the man but never touching him. 

Grantaire sighed, closing his eyes and unconsciously leaning towards Enjolras, who raised his hand to caress his boyfriend's cheek. 

"Nowhere", Grantaire finally said, but the word sounded hollow to his own ears. 

"Tell me, R", Enjolras asked, thumb rubbing circular patterns over a bruise forming on Grantaire's cheekbone. 

Grantaire reopened his eyes, looking embarrassed. A long moment of silence followed, until he raised his own hand to touch Enjolras', who stopped caressing Grantaire and allowed him to hold his hand. 

Then Grantaire lowered Enjolras' hand, pulling it gently until it was resting above the cynic's chest. 

Enjolras felt tears welling in his eyes and closed the remaining distance between him and his boyfriend by pulling him into a hug. 

"Why did you do that?" Grantaire finally asked after what felt like an eternity. 

"I love you", Enjolras whispered in his ear, and he felt Grantaire shiver beneath his touch. "I wouldn’t let them hurt you". 

"So you got hurt instead", Grantaire replied quietly. He sounded somewhat guilty. 

"I'll be better in no time. And getting hurt for you is worth it", Enjolras said. 

"He called you dirty", Grantaire said, voice shaky. He sounded sober. "He said you were cheating on me, and that I should cheat back". 

"I would never", Enjolras whispered, placing small kisses on Grantaire's cheek, taking in his scent. "I would never do that to you, R". 

"I know", Grantaire whispered back, and he seemed to relax and melt into Enjolras touch. "I know", he repeated. 

"Who was he?" Enjolras asked, curiosity speaking louder. 

"He calls himself Le Cabuc", Grantaire replied. "I don’t know him. I've seen him sometimes on the nearby bars". 

"He's a liar", Enjolras commented, resting his nose against Grantaire's neck. 

"You shouldn’t be standing up", Grantaire repeated, reluctantly breaking their hug. He hadn't been that physically intimate with Enjolras for what felt like ages. "It'll aggravate your knee". 

"My knee will be fine", Enjolras said, looking into his boyfriend's eyes. "I love you, R", he said, and saw a storm of emotions cross Grantaire's eyes in a second. "I love you so much. I'm tired of fighting. I want to be there for you. And I want you to be there for me. I want to make you happy again". 

"You can't fix me", Grantaire muttered, looking down, and Enjolras raised his chin with a single finger. "You can't". 

"You're not broken, to need fixing" Enjolras replied, giving him a sad smile. "You're a complete human being, who is going through struggles, and I am here for you. I love you for who you are, R, and nothing's going to change that". 

"I'm sorry", Grantaire said, voice breaking as if he was on the verge of tears. "I'm sorry". 

"There's nothing to be sorry for", Enjolras reassured, pulling his boyfriend back into another hug. 

"I'm a piece of shit", Grantaire said, voice muffled by Enjolras curls. "I'm always mocking you and I never help. I love you so much but I take you for granted. I just can't stand seeing you suffer". 

"I'm not suffering, R-" 

"But you will. You'll fail, not because you're incompetent, but because the people won't help you. And then you'll blame yourself, as you always do, and you'll suffer". 

Enjolras stayed silent. Grantaire was a cynic by nature, and there was nothing Enjolras could do to change that. Maybe they would have to work their differences over time, and accept that there were some subjects that they just would never agree on. 

"Can we go to bed?" Enjolras finally said, breaking their hug once more. Grantaire nodded, passing Enjolras' arm around his neck and helping him to their bedroom. He eased Enjolras down on the mattress, looking at the lying form with nothing but adoration in his eyes. 

"I will go grab your icepacks", Grantaire announced, but just as he turned to leave Enjolras grabbed his hand. 

"Stay", Enjolras said, voice just above a whisper. They locked eyes, Enjolras' cherry lips slightly parted in anticipation, waiting for Grantaire's response. 

"Ok", Grantaire finally said, climbing the bed to lie beside Enjolras. "But don’t tell Joly I let you without ice". 

Enjolras chuckled at this, and something blossomed inside his chest. It felt like they were their old selves again. 

"I love you, R", Enjolras said, slowly caressing Grantaire's curls as the man's head lied against his chest. "You know that, right?" 

"I do", Grantaire whispered, sighing contented at the touch. He felt more relaxed and at ease than he had for weeks, even with the stinging cut at his hip and the several bruises starting to appear on his body. "I love you too". 

"I want to be with you", Enjolras said, unsure of what else he could say. He hoped those words could make Grantaire understand everything he wanted to tell him but couldn’t. Enjolras was amazing with words and speeches, but whenever it came to Grantaire, he could never find the right thing to say. 

"I want to be with you, too", Grantaire whispered after a few moments, sounding understanding. 

"We're gonna be ok", Enjolras said, snuggling against his boyfriend. Grantaire cuddled him closer. 

"We're gonna be ok", Grantaire repeated, and for the first time in his life, he believed the words.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what this is, honestly, but I think it turned out ok.  
> If you liked this, please leave comments and kudos, they make me really happy. Constructive criticism is appreciated too. You can always find me on edema--ruh.tumblr.com


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